>> Wednesday, 29 July 2009

Ah, the holidays.

Blue skies, warm temperatures, long and lazy days spent by the pool with your children.

(Although of course we all know that 'lazy' isn't a term that is strictly true, if you count the supermarket shopping that for some reason seems to happen far more frequently in a foreign country, the high alert each time one of the children goes near water, the constant annointings of the kids with sun cream, the constant applications of the same with mosquito repellant, the cooking, tidying, the searching for the lost swim goggles, the searching for the lost swim shorts, and the running back to the supermarket for the extra wine you need because unaccountably you seem to have drunk the half case you bought the day before yesterday in less than 48 hours...)

But still, blue skies, family time, adventures in mysterious castles. Paradise, really.

So what, I wondered, was Boy #2's favourite part of our holiday? Would it be the pool games?The frequent access to ice-cream? The jousting at the castle (more of which another time)?

Oh no.

"It was when we drove over the railway lines that crossed the road, mummy."

13
comments:

I sympathise. My son's favourite moment on our holiday last week? The time we got him some new scissors at Ikea. (We took him up a mountain in a cable car, saw wonderful castles in the forest in France, etc, etc. And that's what he chooses.)

Although, following our great weekend in Sarajevo last weekend, with nothing but child orientated activities, ice cream, staying up late and all sorts of stuff that they love, the most exciting thing was discovering that there was a Ben 10 show on the TV.

haha brilliant - it is always the simple things that please. I have perhaps spoilt betty with a few presents here and there since dolly was born but she has snubbed them all in favour of some paper cake cases - which she spends hours with.

I know what you mean about visiting the supermarket far more often in a different country too. I felt rather envious reading your post - a foreign holiday seems years away for us!

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Potty Mummy

Moscow, Russia

Dictionary definition of Potty: 'somewhat silly or crazed, addlebrained'. I started this blog to share the benefit of my - admittedly limited - experience of potty training my two boys, and to show that whilst it can be hell, it also can be done. All things must pass though (thank goodness - my sons are now 11 and 8), and potty training for us has been consigned to history, so this has become more of a blog to stop me becoming potty than about the potty. And if you can understand my twisted logic, I hope you enjoy these extremely subjective anecdotes on being a stay-at-home mum transplanted to Moscow and still coming to terms with not also being a career woman. Really. You'd think I'd be over it by now; it's been 8 years since I last worked in an office - and went to the loo with the door shut - after all... You can also find me writing as Clare Taylor on Powder Room Graffiti and in the blog section of the Moscow Times on 'Diaries of a Moscow Mum'.

And be polite. The moment I put pen to paper or fingers to keys, all content, photos, or images on this blog (unless otherwise credited) are copyright me, me, me.